Monologue On Abortion

The room is small and claustrophobic. It smells like disinfectant and latex. The lights are too bright, too clinical. A woman sits behind desk, when I walk up to her she smiles a little too big. The way nurses sometimes do, like they are trying to make you feel better, which they probably are. It always comes across as so fake, so insincere. It always makes me want to scream, and today is no different, in fact I think today is worse. Everything in me wants to yell at her “you know what I’m doing here right? You can see it on that nice chart of yours. I know you can. So why are you smiling at me? That’s not helpful right now.” I stop myself, because I know yelling at her won’t make me feel any better, and honestly she is probably actually
A nurse when through all of my options with me when I made the appointment. I want an abortion. I can’t carry this baby to full term. I’m a senior in high school, and I’m applying for college. My parents would kill me if they found out I got pregnant. I can’t. I can’t have a baby right now. Why? Why did’t they teach me? Why didn’t they teach me what they pill was? Why didn’t they should me how to put a condom on? I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t be a mom.” I begin speaking very fast. My words all kind of blurring together. I start to sob. Uncontrollably and loudly. “I’m sorry.” “Look Miranda it’s ok to be afraid, but you shouldn’t go through with this unless you are completely sure you are making the right decision.” She says as she hands me a tissue. “I’m sure. I’m sorry it’s just been a rough few weeks. I’m fine. I’m sure that this is what I want to do. This is what I have to do.” “Ok then. We need to go over some medical history and run some tests and then we will start the procedure. The actual procedure should only last about 10 minutes, but we are going to give you a sedative. You will need a ride home. You have that right?” Her voice is extremely steady. It’s clear that she has said these words a million